were blazing haystacks and
farmhouses to be seen, and the happy and smiling plain showed scarred
and rent with the mangling hand of war. On the 6th, a sugar refinery,
which had been held as an outpost by a force of 1,800 Germans, was set
on fire by a French battery. The infantry had been successful in getting
to within close range and as the invaders sought to escape from the
burning building, they were picked off one by one by the French
marksmen. The French infantry, well intrenched, suffered scarcely any
loss. It was in brilliant sunshine that the fire broke out, and the
conflagration was so fierce that the empty building sent up little
smoke. The flames scarcely showed in the bright light, and to the
onlooker, it seemed as if some rapid leprous disease was eating up the
building. The situation was horrible for the Germans, either to be
trapped and to perish in the flames, or to face the withering French
infantry fire without any opportunity to fight back. Less than 300 of
the occupants of the refinery won clear.

Wherever the forces met, the slaughter was great and terrible. In the
excitement and the eagerness of the first offensive, the French seemed
to have forgotten the lessons of prudence that the long retreat should
have ingrained into their memory, and they sought to take every village
that was occupied by the Germans with a rush. The loss of life was
greatest at a point four miles east of Meaux. There, on a sharp,
tree-covered ridge, the Germans had intrenched, and gun platforms had
been placed under the screen of the trees. An almost incessant hail of
shrapnel fell on these lines, and the French infantry charges were
repulsed again and again, with but little loss on the German line. But,
meantime, village after village had been attacked by the French and
carried with the bayonet, and on Sunday, September 6th, 1914, that part
of the battles of the Marne which dealt with the driving back of the
Germans to the line of the Ourcq, was in some of its feature like a
hand-to-hand conflict of ages long gone by. Yet, overhead aeroplanes
circled, on every side shells were bursting, the heavy smell of blood on
a hot day mingled with the explosive fumes, but the Zouaves and the
Turcos fought without ceasing and with a force and spirit that went far
to win for the French the cheering news that village after village had
been freed of the invaders.

When the night of that Sunday fell, however, on the line of the Ourcq,
t